


no saving grace

by veroniquemagique



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: AU where Grace and Frankie had an affair years before their husbands, Angst, F/F, Grace is in denial about being a lesbian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-03 14:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veroniquemagique/pseuds/veroniquemagique
Summary: From the moment they meet, Grace Hanson cannot stand Frankie Bergstein. Yet she finds herself drawn to the woman, and somehow she finds herself entangled in a messy new relationship that she can't quite understand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to ssfemship for helping me develop this idea - honestly, your help made this work.
> 
> i hope you enjoy this journey of everyone's favourite repressed lesbian, and i only hope i can do this concept justice.

“Do these things look right to you?” 

“A-Are you sure that’s entirely appropriate?” Grace muttered, trying desperately to avert her eyes from the display being put on in front of her. She had just met this woman moments ago, and now she was standing before her, shirt pulled up and her chest in full view for Grace. No matter how hard she tried, how she turned her head, covered her eyes, her gaze kept slipping back through the cracks. How could she  _ not _ look at them right now?

“Oh, my bad,” Frankie said, pulling her shirt back down, shrugging casually. Grace let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and her eyes quickly scanned the room. Thank Christ nobody else was in there with them, she couldn’t imagine what they would think. “I’ve just been wondering… ah, never mind, I won’t bother you with it right now.”

“Uh thanks,” Grace said shakily, still hiding behind her hand, her face not recovered yet from the flush of embarrassment. 

When Robert brought her to this party, and told her she’d be meeting his new partner and his wife… Grace had far different expectations. She expected an average, maybe kind of boring lawyer type, a perfect match for her own husband - and Sol wasn’t overly disappointing, but he was way more of a heart on his sleeve kind of guy than Grace was used to or was comfortable with. She could live with that though, if he wasn’t married to the embodiment of everything her parents warned her not to be.

Somehow, she had been left alone with her now too, when Robert and Sol had been whisked away by their colleagues, to congratulate them for their new positions at the firm. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but the moment they left her hand desperately felt in need of a glass of, well, anything, to cling to - and that was before Frankie decided to show off her exhibitionist side.

Frankie kept trying to make the effort to talk to Grace, but if her earlier actions weren’t enough, the moment she brought up the Carter victory from the year before, and her preference for a more socialist society over a liberal democratic one, Grace had had enough. Her patience was incredibly thin by the time Robert pardoned her from the conversation, she really believed that leaving should have come much sooner. The cool air of the night as they left the building was never so refreshing. It was relieving to get away from Frankie Bergstein, although Grace knew she would not be forgetting that woman anytime soon.

As she sat at the mirror in her and Robert’s bedroom, carefully wiping off the face she had crafted for the day, and taking her time to run a brush through her hair, the conversation with that insufferable woman kept replaying itself in her head. More importantly, that off-kilter mating display, or whatever it was supposed to be, kept sneaking back into her mind every time she closed her eyes for a moment. She had tried so hard not to look, not to stare, but they were  _ there _ . Grace had never seen any other woman’s breasts before, beside her own. She didn’t feel inadequate or anything ridiculous like that, but the image of Frankie’s was still stuck with her.

It was just such an appalling gesture, that’s all, that’s why she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Any woman- any  _ person  _ would be, right? It’s not like she’s a fucking  _ lesbian _ or something. Oh God no, Grace Hanson is not one of  _ them _ . Nope, nope, fucking no. She was a happily- well, she was a married woman. A woman married to a man. Although, she was married to a man who barely touched her - not that she was really complaining - so perhaps that was why her mind was wandering back to Frankie. That almost made sense, except it wasn’t like she enjoyed intimacy with Robert - if you could call it that. There was nothing intimate about sex with him - she had just accepted it as something unpleasant that couples do, like visiting each other’s hellish parents, and she was just grateful that it wasn’t frequent. 

But just because she wasn’t… no, that didn’t mean she wanted to do anything with that annoying, free-loving hippie.  _ She  _ was probably one of  _ them  _ though - why else would she flash Grace like that?  _ Christ _ . She sent a quick prayer to God that their lives would remain pleasantly uninvolved - or as much as possible.

Robert came into the room just then, and crawled into his side of the bed without a word to his wife. Grace took that as her cue to try putting Frankie out of her mind, joining her husband in their bed. He was never much of a talker, and Grace was glad for that, because she didn’t really want to share a bed with someone like that. She turned off the lamp on her side and rolled over facing away from Robert. 

As hard as she tried to forget, Frankie was still the image behind her eyes as she forced them shut, and she resigned to the internal torture of it until sleep saved her. Christ, she hoped she’d be over this in the morning, that she would forget all about the party and the woman whose antics were relentlessly plaguing her thoughts. The last thing she needed was a life tormented with thoughts of Frankie Bergstein. Too bad for her.


	2. Chapter 2

Grace watched herself in the vanity mirror, pinning her earrings in place mindlessly. Every now and then, her eye would catch Robert flitting back and forth across the room behind her, but she couldn’t focus too long on her husband or what he was doing, couldn’t help but fixate on her own reflection. Something had been catching her eye every time she crossed a mirror these days, something off, something that had fallen off-balance. Maybe she was vain, or maybe she wanted more out of the plain face that stared back at her blankly every time.

Robert spoke, asking her if she was ready to leave, ready to head out to the mediocre local restaurant where a reservation and long, long night awaited them. She said something like an answer, but she wasn’t really paying attention to the words, only watching the way her lips formed them in the glass. Standing, and letting out a sigh, she smoothed out the dress she had chosen for the evening. Something, some desire, had began to grow deep in the pit of her stomach in recent years - a desire to please, to look good, to make herself something, someone, that other people wanted to be. Maybe she was vain.

It took everything in Grace’s power to make herself get in that car, the car that reeked of cigar smoke, the car that was bringing them to sit across from the Bergsteins in that little restaurant for too long an evening. So much for her desperate prayers.

Until Robert announced the plans for dinner, Grace had been somewhat successful in pushing Frankie Bergstein out of her head. Somewhat, only because sometimes when she closed her eyes she could still picture that stupid toothy grin, the wild hair that looked like it had never been introduced to a brush, that tight outfit that looked like it belonged in the last decade, and it infuriated her. She wasn’t sure why Frankie irritated her so much, but it was beginning to become a problem she didn’t want to deal with. Yet here she was, going out to dinner with her problem.

They were already there, seated at the little square table when Grace and Robert arrived. They didn’t even have to wait to be seated, because as soon as Sol and Frankie laid eyes on them, Sol’s hand shot up like a happy dog’s stupid tail, and Frankie grinned around a mouthful of bread and waved. It took Grace a great deal of restraint to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head. And that was just _great_ , they hadn’t even fucking sat down yet.

While Robert and Sol discussed their first legal victory - a milestone, she supposed - Grace struggled to be the attentive wife who cared about this bit of litigation, and that particularly moving argument, or whatever the fuck they were saying. She sure as hell didn’t marry a lawyer because she harbored her own passions of justice. Still, she tried to be happy that they won their first case together. She probably would be a better actress if she didn’t have to simultaneously act like Frankie acting like a child across from her wasn’t frustrating as hell.

Since the legal talk bored her beyond belief, Grace found that her eyes kept finding their way back to Frankie. Frankie tried to start a concurrent conversation with her a few times, but gave up when she didn’t get anything back beside a few quick one word answers. So here she was, just watching the way Frankie tore her bun apart before shovelling the little pieces in her mouth, the way she pushed the varying vegetables around her plate until they were in a more aesthetically pleasing color arrangement, or so she guessed anyways - they still just looked like vegetables to her. Every time Frankie shot her a smile or winked at her, Grace found something else to look at, to search for something of interest, but her gaze would inevitably make its way back to Frankie.

It's not that she preferred the scent of cigars over that marijuana odor she had smelled off of Frankie, but she was glad to settle into the passenger side of Robert’s car when the evening was finally over. She let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as if it would make her forget again. Robert cleared his throat.

“Grace,” he said quietly, but sternly. She glanced over at him.

“What?”

“You could at least _pretend_ to like Frankie,” Robert shook his head, putting the keys in the ignition and bringing the car alive. God, it was such a loud car, when all she wanted was quiet. Her head was beginning to pound - somewhat dull, but ever present.

Pretend to like Frankie? Like she pretended she cared about the answer to her overly chipper “how was your day, dear”? She couldn’t help but scoff, which only got her another displeased glance from Robert.

“Please try,” Robert added, “for me. Can you manage that?”

“Yeah, sure,” Grace muttered, shaking her head at the thought of not only having to deal with her, but that she’d have to entertain civility on top of that. But she would try, for Robert, she supposed. She didn’t have to live with Frankie - and thank God for that - but she did have to live with him, for better _and_ for worst, and all those things you say at the altar but never really mean.

She _would_ try to keep the peace, however hard that would prove to be. As much as Frankie drove her up the wall, kept dancing around in her head - probably in the form of some stupid hippie interpretive rain dance bullshit, honestly - she might as well make an effort to enjoy it. Maybe, if Grace gave her the chance, Frankie would prove her wrong, but she doubted it.


	3. Chapter 3

She wasn’t nervous. Not like the flutter in her chest she recalled from the days of driving down the lane of cookie cutter houses, her father delivering her to a school friend’s house for a sleepover. For some reason Grace was remembering those nights, when she’d sit around with the other girls, trying to imitate their mothers’ careful and meticulous beauty rituals - usually with some room for childish error - and gossiping about the cutest boys in their grade. She never felt the appeal of those morons and their antics, never understood why the girls would fawn over them the way they did, but she still remembers feeling compelled to pick one to be _the_ _one_ , the one she would try to care about. Then again, she never felt like she belonged with those girls anyways. She always chalked it up to being too mature for her age, but something still made her heart beat just a little faster when Carol or Susan or Mary would invite her to come over and spend time with them.

That wasn’t like what Grace was experiencing now though. Her heart squeezed with anticipation, but it was still steeped in bitterness over the fact that she the very person she was anticipating was Frankie Bergstein. Really, it must only be because of what happened the last time the two of them were alone together. That was all. Why should Frankie make her giddy like a schoolgirl?

The off-beat drumming on the front door dragged Grace out of her own head, out of unpleasant memories - unpleasant feelings - she’d much rather forget. She gravitated towards the foyer, mindlessly unlatching the lock and swinging the door open with the most endearingly fake hostess smile she could manage.

“Frankie,” she greeted, stepping back and gesturing for the woman on the other side of the door to come into her house. She watched her step through the door, watched the look of amazement on her face as she took in the entryway like a child in a toy store. As immaculate as it was, Grace knew her house was like nothing of that sort - it lacked about a lifetime’s worth of _life_ to be like that.

“Here,” Frankie said, spinning around to face Grace, shoving a small paper bag in her hands. The smile fell from her face immediately, because for the love of Christ Frankie better not have brought her a sample of her personal marijuana stash. She better not be planning to turn her house into some redo of Woodstock. The Hansons were _not_ those sort of people, she wouldn’t tolerate that in her home.

“Wh-what is it?” Grace asked, her eyes cautiously flitting back and forth between the bag in her hand and the woman who had put it there. Frankie just smiled at her, that same grin as when she-

“It’s some lavender incense - a thank you for having me over. You may not know this about me Grace, but I’m a highly perceptive lady, and I sensed that you didn’t quite take to me that night at the firm, or at dinner the other night for that matter, so I do really appreciate this.”

A peace offering? Harmless enough, she supposed.

“I did some reading on incenses that would help set the right mood for our new relationship, and there were a few good options in my book but most of them had to do with sexual compatibility and that kinda stuff,” Frankie waved the idea off, thankfully, “so I figured lavender was the safest bet. Didn’t want to send mixed signals.”

 _Mixed signals_? Oh great, so she wasn’t trying to seduce her again just yet. Maybe that would come _after_ they had lunch. Grace took a breath to steady herself, to channel her restraint not to crumple the bag up in her hand, and she led the two of them into sitting room.

“Would you care for a drink?” She motioned to Robert’s drink cart, but Frankie shook her head.

“I don’t really drink much, but thanks,” she laughed, making herself plenty comfortable on the couch, legs folded up under herself like she lived there. Hmph. Living with Frankie? Just the thought of it made Grace feel like pouring herself a drink, but no, she promised herself she wouldn’t, for fear she would let something slip under the influence and only make things worse.

“Alright,” Grace pursed her lips, taking a seat opposite Frankie on the couch. She felt all those carefully rehearsed etiquette and posture lectures were going to waste as she straightened out her skirt, glancing over at her guest. Frankie was picking at the cheese platter she had prepared on the table, her tongue unceremoniously jutting out of the side of her mouth as she examined each piece. It felt like watching a child, and briefly Grace wondered if this would be what having Robert’s children would be like. Hopefully he would only want one, if any.

The silence between them stretched out for what felt like an eternity, a silence filled with Frankie shoving assorted cheese chunks into her mouth every now and then.

“So…” Frankie sighed, looking over at Grace and smiling nervously, her fingers clutched at her knees. “Seen any good movies lately?”

Grace just stared into her eyes, not particularly amused by her attempts at small talk. “No, I’m not much of a film fan. I’m more into theatre – but not that awful community theatre garbage.”

“ _Excuse me_ , Ms. Country Club Snooty Pants,” Frankie snorted. She smirked at Grace in disbelief, Grace rolled her eyes. What, like honesty wasn’t a hippie value? “Sorry to offend your delicate tastes.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Grace turned to face her, eyes narrowing at the insinuation. “At least I have more taste,” she said, “than whatever commie bullshit you’re into.”

“I wouldn’t call that taste, _dear_ ,” Frankie replied, leaning back into the couch with her arms folded. “More like… oh, I don’t know, boring?”

Oh, that was it. This woman was incredible, something else entirely. She was pushing every last one of Grace’s buttons and she had barely been in the house an hour.

“ _Boring?_ ” Grace pushed herself up of the couch and turned on Frankie, nails digging into her hips.

“You heard me.”

“At least I don’t flash absolute strangers within five minutes of meeting them!” Grace took a step closer jutting a finger sharply in Frankie’s direction. “Who even does that?”

Frankie shook her head and began to chuckle, as she stood to match Grace’s attempt to intimidate her. She should have known it wouldn’t have been that easy with this insufferable woman.

“What’s so funny?”

“What, didn’t you like what you saw? Do _breasts_ offend you, Grace?” Frankie reached for the hem of her shirt once more. Grace gasped and grabbed for her wrists, holding them and her shirt in place. She was not going to go through this twice. It took her weeks to stop thinking about them after the first time, she didn’t want to suffer through that nightmare again.

“Shut up, Frankie,” Grace snarled, taking another step to close the gap between them, so close she could feel Frankie’s breath. Her stupid, cheesy breath.

“Make me,” Frankie teased, wriggling her wrists free from Grace’s grasp, but not stepping back. It almost felt like she moved closer, if that was at all possible.

Before she could think much about it, Grace’s body moved without her mind, and suddenly she was gripping Frankie’s shoulders, and her lips were pressed against Frankie’s. That was one way to shut her up, she supposed.

Frankie didn’t fight it - in fact she kissed her back - which was not something Grace would have ever dreamed of, even with the whole free-loving exhibitionist act. The whole situation was setting off serious alarms in her head, but for the moment she pushed them aside, as she pushed Frankie back onto the couch. The feeling this gave her was nothing like she had ever felt before, not with Robert, not with the boys she made herself go after in high school, not- wait no, this was like the feeling she felt that night back at the firm, but so much more. Much, _much_ more. So much, in fact, that she couldn’t ignore the panic inside for long, as Frankie’s hands gripped her waist. She broke away and pushed herself off Frankie, rolling over onto the couch beside her.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Grace breathed, staring blankly ahead, frozen in that room like an explosive cocktail of fear, and guilt, and… other feelings she didn’t ever want to come face to face with, not with Frankie of all people. Was this why she treated her so… Oh _God_.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Frankie exhaled deeply, reaching out to Grace. Grace flinched away, feeling like her breath was quickly escaping her and not returning. “Are you okay?”

“Get out.” She couldn’t deal with this, with Frankie, not right now. She desperately needed to lock herself away, far away from this woman and her stupid hair, her stupid smile, her stupid soft lips that were doing crazy things to Grace’s head.

“What?” Frankie looked at her like she was as crazy as she felt.

“Go. Leave. _Please_ ,” Grace’s hand shook as she pointed it towards the door. Frankie stood up slowly, watching Grace as if she were a frightened child being reprimanded by her mother – but Grace wasn’t her mother, and what had just happened between them was far different than anything a mother would ever yell at her for. And she had let it happen just as much as Grace had, which scared Grace almost as much as her own actions.

“Fine,” Frankie said, turning for the door without much protest. She paused in the entry to the hall, mouth agape like she wanted to say something else, probably something consoling to the wreck of a person sitting on the couch, but she chose not to, and a moment later Grace heard the door open and close again. Then she felt the tears trail down her face, hot and filled with pain, fear, guilt, anger. So many feelings she couldn’t understand.

For the first time in her life, since she had been introduced to it, Grace willingly made her way to the tall, clear bottle sitting atop Robert’s drink cart. Even though her body was on autopilot in that moment, she grasped it tightly in her hand and opened it with an unsteady grip. It didn’t matter that it burned as she poured the bottle back, or that she wasn’t used to the feeling that washed over her and it only served to make her stomach twist up even more, the vodka was comforting, in the worst possible way.

What the _fuck_ had she just done?


	4. Chapter 4

Grace had never been more grateful for the long stretches of Robert’s absence. It still felt cold, and empty, to be in that house by herself, but it was better this way. It was easier to hide when she just couldn’t keep herself wound so tightly, when her emotions slipped through the cracks every now and then.

She still couldn’t believe that she had done _that_ , right there, in the living room. Every time she went in there now, she was reminded of the barrage of feelings that were just as overwhelming then as they were now, and it made her want to run away. Run away from this house, from herself. She wasn’t supposed to be like this, she thought, as she resigned herself to the couch. She wasn’t supposed to _feel_ like this, not her, not Grace Hanson. She was groomed from day one to be some man’s happy little housewife, she was supposed to feel this way about her _husband_ , not her husband’s partner’s wife. Not any woman, really, but especially not _her_. So why was she here? Where was _here_?

 _Here_ , she thought bitterly, was wanting something she couldn’t have, and hating herself for wanting it so bad. She hated to admit it, but she had never felt as alive as when she had kissed Frankie. Running her hands through her hair, she let out a heavy sigh. All she wanted was to be _normal_ , and she knew that this wasn’t it, but it was harder to deny with each passing day that it still felt so right. She hated Frankie for bringing this out of her, poking at it and setting it alight, and leaving it to burn.

The memory of that day still stung like a fresh cut, no matter how hard she tried to move past. She recalled locking herself in her bedroom and nursing that bottle of Robert’s vodka until the late afternoon, and then waking up to the sound of the car door slamming. Her ability to recover herself was uncanny that day, fixing her hair and wiping the running mascara from her cheeks, hiding the bottle beneath the bed before Robert could reach her. Later that night, after she had fixed them dinner, and Robert a scotch to relax with, she had tried so desperately to coax him into their bedroom, to an intimate moment. He politely refused, citing his exhaustion, and some part of her had been ridiculously, overwhelmingly relieved. She knew the only reason she had even wanted to sleep with him was to try to fix what had broken that afternoon, set herself back on track. They hadn’t slept together since.

She wondered, was Frankie having this same crisis? Was her world falling apart over this, was she questioning everything she was supposed to be? Grace highly doubted it. Even in the short time she had known the woman, she had gathered the impression that Frankie was a very ‘go with the flow’ kind of person. She probably had moved on by that evening, while Grace sat in her living room, consumed by dry, empty sobbing. Part of Grace’s mind kept wandering back to Frankie, worried and wishing that she had reached out, like she had tried when it had happened. She couldn’t blame Frankie for not wanting to make the effort though, after she had pushed her away so coldly.

Without letting herself think too much about it, Grace found herself scrawling a note out, flimsily explaining why she would be gone, why her unassuming husband would come home to a vacant house. She took a few deep breaths, as hard as it felt to breathe in that moment, and pushed herself to take those few steps to the door, to get into the car, to start the ignition. It was moments like these that she wished she didn’t know how to drive. Right now, she honestly felt like she was as likely to drive into a tree as she was to make it to her destination.

It felt good to let the car door slam after she pulled into the Bergstein’s driveway, to push some of the nervous energy off into the hard metal. Besides, it would let Frankie know that she was there, and that knowledge was really the only thing keeping her from getting back into the car, instead it pushed her closer and closer, towards the front door. She let an unsteady hand fall against the door.

As if she had been waiting for Grace to arrive, Frankie took no time to swing the door wide open. She took a step back, giving Grace a curious look.

“Grace? What are you doing here?” She asked.

Grace bit her lip, struggling to find the words she had rehearsed in the car. “I wanted to apologize.”

Frankie gave her a skeptical look, eyes sweeping up and down her frame as she shifted her weight against the door frame.

“And what, may I ask, do you feel so moved to apologize for?” Frankie said, eyes narrowing at Grace as she just stood there, gaping like a fish. This attitude was unlike what she had seen in their past encounters, and it felt like Frankie had pulled the ground from beneath her. Grace knew she had every reason to be upset, but it was still off-putting.

“Please, Frankie,” Grace sighed, “can I come in?”

Frankie let out a deep sigh, and turned to head back inside, and just as she thought she was going to slam the door in her face, she motioned for Grace to follow her. She hurried in and closed the door behind her.

“So,” Frankie stopped just inside the door, hands on her hips. “I’m waiting, where’s this grand apology I’ve been offered? Or did you lie so you could come and insult me in my own home?”

“I…” Grace took a deep breath. “Look, Frankie… I did come to apologize. I acted terribly the other day, I shouldn’t have said what I said and I… I shouldn’t have done what I did either,” she sighed. “It was a mistake.”

“Oh, a mistake? Didn’t feel like a mistake to me - until you pushed me away, that is.”

It _didn’t_ feel like a mistake to her? Grace couldn’t even begin to wrap her head around what that could possible mean. The implications made what she was feeling sting even worse – another match tossed in the fire.

“Don’t tell me that you think that… _that_ … was perfectly fine? Nothing wrong with what I- _we_ did?” Grace asked.

Frankie shook her head. “No, it wasn’t perfect, there’s a lot wrong with it, matter of fact - but it wasn’t entirely a mistake,” she took a step towards Grace, eyes locked firmly with hers. “I’ve been doing a _lot_ of meditating on this over the past week, filled about three mental journals, and of all the things that make this wrong – like for one, I technically cheated on my husband with a woman who apparently can’t stand me – I still… I still wanted it, Grace.”

Grace was at a loss of words, stunned by the revelation. Although Frankie seemed to have some more productive, albeit ridiculous, methods of processing this… she had been struggling with this too, and for what? For Grace to push her away?

“I… Frankie, I’m not supposed to feel this way,” she said, finally, hoping that it didn’t sound as pained as it did in her head. “I’m- you’re- we’re both women… Frankie, I’m not supposed to be like that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being in touch with your sapphic side, Grace. Most of us have one,” Frankie’s eyes softened a bit as she spoke, taking in Grace’s woes. She already knew she sounded pathetic, but that pitiful face only confirmed it.

“You don’t get it, Frankie. I shouldn’t…” Grace wrapped her arms around herself, tightly, and gripped at her sleeves. “I shouldn’t have felt more when I kissed you than I ever have with my husband. I don’t feel anything with Robert… well, except disgusted with myself, usually… I’m not supposed to be like _this_.”

That’s all it took for Frankie to close the distance between them, bringing her arms up around Grace’s, pulling her into an embrace. As she relaxed into the soft arms, inhaled the smell of shampoo and that god-awful patchouli oil on the hair that tickled her nose, Grace could feel the tears fill her eyes before she could stop them - if she could stop them. She cursed herself for falling apart in front of anyone, let alone Frankie, but there was no point in fighting it now. She let the sobs go on, let herself get it all out – all the while convincing herself that this would be the last time she ever let it happen. That way, she could blame it on Frankie and the way she made her feel.

“Shh,” Frankie soothed, gently patting her back. She pulled back from Grace and smiled at her with the kind of sadness that only made Grace want to cry harder. Frankie watched her for a moment, before she raised her hand to Grace’s cheek, thumb grazing just under her eye, then the other, wiping away the tears.

Something bubbled deep inside Grace’s chest, as she continued to watch the woman in front of her, a feeling like she hadn’t felt since she was a young child. But Frankie couldn’t- wouldn’t possibly care for her that way… not after how terribly she had treated her again, and again, as long as they’d known each other. Then Frankie smiled at her, and she swore her heart broke a little bit.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself, her right hand shaking as it rose to Frankie’s face. She watched as confusion flickered in Frankie’s eyes, but she didn’t move away from Grace’s touch. Grace couldn’t bear to look at those deep, caring eyes as she moved forward, pressing her eyes closed tightly as she pressed her lips to Frankie’s.

It was gentler this time, not a threat, not even remotely charged by anger, like it was the last time. She let out a shaky sigh against Frankie’s lips, the lips that softly slipped over hers in all the right ways. She felt Frankie’s hands raise, her fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer. Grace couldn’t believe that this was happening again, even though she had initiated it - again. As wrong as she told herself it was, it felt so right to do this, to feel and taste Frankie’s lips against hers. More hot tears spilled down her face, but she couldn’t care less.

Frankie pulled away this time, resting her forehead against Grace’s. She wasn’t upset, or at least she was good at hiding it if she were. Instead, she was smiling so warmly at Grace, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Oh, Grace…” Frankie breathed, eyes flitting over Grace’s face so carefully. She let her hands fall to Grace’s shoulders, holding her back so she could really look at her. Grace had never felt more exposed.

“What now?” Grace asked, quiet and afraid of the answer. Frankie took her hands in her own, and without another word, pulled her along into the other room. She sat down on the couch, bringing Grace down with her.

“Before anything, I need to ask you something,” Frankie began, still holding her hands. Grace nodded. “Was that another mistake? Or are we past that little self-denial trip?”

Grace let out a noise that was intended to be laughter, but came out far more strangled.

“I don’t know about ‘mistake’, but it wasn’t an accident. Oh God, Frankie,” she inhaled deeply, “Oh God, I want this so bad.”

“I love my husband,” Frankie said, and it wasn’t at all where Grace had expected this conversation to go. “But…”

“ _But_?” Grace asked hesitantly. She sincerely hoped this wasn’t Frankie’s way of letting her down easily.

“But I can’t deny that I… I want this too,” Frankie sighed. “I’d ask you about Robert, but you’ve already made it clear how you feel about that, so… I know there’s probably a lot more to consider here, but are you sure about this?”

Grace had never been so sure in her life. “Yes,” she nodded, “are you?”

Frankie looked her straight in the eyes and nodded back at her. Then, she took Grace’s face in her hands, so gently, and kissed her. Grace didn’t think she’d ever get over how soft Frankie’s lips felt against hers. The way she tugged at Grace’s bottom lip, teasing it with her tongue, begging Grace to let her in, it drove Grace crazy. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she let herself fall into Frankie’s embrace as much as she could. She couldn’t help herself as she ran her hands through Frankie’s hair, pulling her in, getting completely intoxicated by this woman.

She let her hands fall from Frankie’s hair to her shoulders, then to explore further down. She slid them across her collarbone, then down around the curve of her breasts. Frankie was wearing a short sweater, which made it all the more tempting to slip her fingers up underneath it to where she knew Frankie would not be wearing a bra – where she never did. She felt Frankie gasp, and pull her lips away, looking back at Grace. Her hands froze where they were, suddenly very afraid that she had gone too far.

“Did I- was that too- I’m-” Grace stammered. She began to pull her hands away, but Frankie grabbed her wrist, holding her where she was.

“Somebody’s a frisky lady,” Frankie smirked. “Who knew you’d be so stoked to get it on?”

Grace rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the torment she was being subjected to. “Chickening out, Bergstein?”

Frankie chuckled, letting go of Grace’s wrist and sliding her hand up her arm to pull her back in by the shoulder. “No way, José.”

Grace took that as her signal to go ahead, to appreciate what was happening between them. She didn’t want to think about how much further this was going to go, if or where she or Frankie might draw the line, but took it upon herself to live in the moment for once.

The longer they went on, the more a newer feeling began to build. It was like an anticipation, a need for more, and it burned with a greater intensity as their kissing continued. She let out a slight whimper, dropping her hands from beneath Frankie’s shirt to slide down to her behind.

“Frankie…” she whispered against her lips, trying desperately to communicate to Frankie what she needed, hoping she would pick up on it sooner rather than later.

“Mmm?” Frankie mumbled, pulling back a little to look at Grace, to see what was wrong.

“I-I need…” Grace swallowed, the rest of her plea dying in her mouth. Her fingers clenched tight around Frankie’s skirt.

“Really? Already?” She asked, eyebrows raising with genuine surprise. It must be sad, to see how little it took to make Grace fall apart, completely unravel in her arms, she thought, but she couldn’t help herself, she had been sitting on many years of denying herself this very feeling. The feeling that overwhelmed her as she imagined all the places those soft lips - that tongue – could go.

Frankie stood up, and held out her hand to Grace, who was paralyzed by the fear, once again, that Frankie was turning her away, going to tell her to get out, much like she had the week before. Grace took her hand and she pulled her to her feet, and before Grace could realize what she was doing, pulling her out of the room.

“Fine, but we’re going in the den,” Frankie spoke without looking back at her, simply leading her through the house. Before a dazed Grace could ask, she added, “I’m not doing it in my bed, and I don’t consider falling off the couch and hitting my head on a table to be a particularly amorous activity.”

She led Grace into the smaller room, and when she saw the bed in front of her, the realization of what they were actually about to do hit her like a two-tonne truck. She shuddered, both with excitement and fear, and Frankie glanced back at her, chewing her lip. She was waiting to see if Grace was scared, too scared to continue across this line, Grace quickly realized. Grace smiled, and turned for the door, briefly, to click the lock shut. She heard Frankie let out a sigh, she assumed of relief, and made her way back over to the other woman.

Frankie was giving her a look unlike she had ever seen before, except maybe in that one boy who had cornered her in his car back in junior year of high school. Unlike then, Grace wanted this, and it didn’t make her feel dirty – instead, it made her feel alive. Emboldened, she slowly stepped forward, one step at a time, towards Frankie, stopping only for a moment once they were face to face, to meet Frankie’s eyes. She tried to convey everything she could in that one look, everything Frankie was making her feel, everything she now wanted to make Frankie feel in return _._

With a gentle shove, Frankie fell back onto the bed, still watching Grace intently. She never broke her gaze from the woman beneath her as she raised her fingers to the first button on her blouse, then the next, and the next, making her way down until the shirt was left hanging open. She grinned as she watched Frankie’s eyes drop to her chest, breaths getting increasingly unsteady as she took in the new sight before her. Grace slid the shirt off her shoulders, and with a deep breath, rid herself of her bra. Frankie eyes went wide, her breath caught in her throat.

“Do _these_ look right to _you_?” Grace teased, bending down to recapture Frankie’s eyes with her own. Frankie swallowed, and frantically grabbed Grace’s shoulders.

“Get over here, you sensual goddess,” Frankie said, pulling her down on top of her. Grace flushed at the compliment, but she wasn’t left to dwell on it for long, for Frankie’s mouth, her hands, began to explore every inch of Grace and it took all her attention to keep up. She didn’t know how she’d feel about this later, but she couldn’t bring herself to care in the moment, as Frankie brought her to a place she never knew she could exist. She couldn’t help but marvel at how Frankie’s body felt in her own hands, but more importantly, how her body felt in Frankie’s, again, and again, and again. If this was a mistake, she never wanted to be more wrong in her life.


End file.
